


That's Mine (Too)

by profound-boning (farawaystardust)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - No supernatural, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Castiel and Jimmy Novak are Twins, Insecure Castiel, Insecure Dean Winchester, Love Confessions, M/M, Miscommunication, Mistaken Identity, Multi, Mutual Pining, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-03 00:45:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15807882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farawaystardust/pseuds/profound-boning
Summary: He’s got his career and his family; he’s a happy man. All he wants now is to fall in love with his soulmate. The person who will complete his life in every way. If Dean were a praying man, he’d ask for Novak to be his.





	That's Mine (Too)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lyster99](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyster99/gifts).



> *THROWS CONFETTI AROUND* Let's celebrate y'all! This fic goes out to a special lady named Beth. Beth contributed to the [deancas anthology](http://deancasanthology.tumblr.com/) kickstarter and requested that I write her something DCJ! We tossed around some ideas and this story was born. And now it is being posted around the anniversary of Beth's birthday! Whee!
> 
> Thanks to Beth and Sammy for reading and leaving comments/corrections/suggestions. The ending you read here is the "clean" version. If you'd like the alternate smutty one, check the end notes. It's nothing too wild but I wanted to be conscientious. Please enjoy! 
> 
> rated T for cursing

Dean crosses the lobby quickly, trying to avoid his co-workers until he’s a bit more awake. Currently, he is not alert enough to appropriately respond to Garth’s friendly greeting. Still, he waves at the guy behind his large reception desk and continues his beeline to the elevator. He’s going to need at least two cups of coffee this morning before he has to navigate human interaction.

Having Sam over for the weekend is both a blessing and a curse. The hangover is the curse, obviously, with coffee as the antidote.

Then, he steps into the elevator and is greeted by beautiful blue eyes and a deep voice.

“Hello, Dean.”

Turns out there’s a _second_ possible antidote to his hangover symptoms.

Ten months working alongside Novak and every time Dean runs into him is like the first. His heart stutters, he forgets to breathe, God help him if he’s drinking coffee or walking—he’ll make a fool of himself for sure.

Today, Dean adjusts his tie and cuff carefully and offers a smile.

“Good morning,” he says amiably.

“Morning,” Novak all but grunts at him. It seems today is a grumpy day.

“You haven’t gotten your coffee yet either?” Dean asks.

Novak runs one hand through his messy, dark hair and mutters, “unfortunately for anyone who has to deal with me in these next few minutes, no.”

“I’ll survive the elevator ride, I hope?” Dean teases, adrenaline pumping quickly in his veins. He enjoys any opportunity to flirt with Novak.

He’s rewarded with a flicker of a grin, just a tug at Novak’s pink lips to indicate that he’s a bit amused but still too tired for actual conversation. They ascend two more floors in a comfortable silence before the doors slide open. Novak exits with a wave and Dean keeps it together until he’s out of sight, then his knees can wobble a bit and he can smile like a doofus because his crush _talked to him._

Dean’s fingers glide absently over the leather cuff on his wrist and he lets himself daydream. Just a little bit.

By lunch, his head is still up in the clouds. Luckily, Victor is handling their clients’ current “major breakdown” so Dean is off the hook for dealing with a temper tantrum. Instead, he’ll think about what it might be like to kiss Novak’s perfect lips, look into his gorgeous blue eyes, listen to him laugh, and then, for the big reveal, to find out that Novak’s got the same soulmark under his cuff that Dean has. Wouldn’t that just be amazing? It’s like something out of a Harlequin novel or a chick flick. Dean does love his chick flicks.

Novak’s a bit of a hurricane but he’s a really great guy. Half the time Dean talks to him it’s awkward and stilted (because Dean gets so nervous he freezes up) or like how today he was so grouchy before drinking some coffee. Other days Novak is a damn social butterfly, inviting Dean out for drinks after work and complimenting his shirt and tie combinations. Dean does his best to roll with the punches. Weirdness aside, Novak’s a dreamboat and smart as hell and Dean is really, _really_ into him.

He’s got his career and his family; he’s a happy man. All he wants now is to fall in love with his soulmate. The person who will complete his life in every way. If Dean were a praying man, he’d ask for Novak to be his.

 

By the time the weekend rolls around, Dean’s had one more early morning grump fest, one jammed printer incident, and two office cafeteria greetings. Shy (and grouchy) Novak had come out to play more often this week, which bummed Dean out a little. He’s never actually _accepted_ one of Novak’s invites to happy hour but the question always makes him feel warm down to his toes.

Saturday dawns gorgeous, so he takes the time to walk outside after a lunch of reheated leftovers. The trails near his apartment are filled with dog walkers, cyclists, and joggers. He really should’ve been paying closer attention, but…

“Oh!”

He collides with a sweaty torso and jumps back at once.

“Hey, man, I’m sorry about that.”

When Dean looks up to see the man he’d just almost pushed into the street, he realizes he’s looking at _Novak_ and immediately blushes even harder than before.

“Oh, hey Winchester! Don’t worry about it.” Dark curls adhere to Novak’s forehead and Dean tries not to stare at his exposed collarbones too much. “How are you?”

“Good, good.” _Dude, make words. It’s not hard._ “How’s the, uh, running?”

Novak has pulled a water bottle from somewhere and is drinking with his head tossed back, the long line of his throat looking tan and sweaty and fucking delectable. Then, to make things worse, once he’s finished, he grabs the hem of his cut-off shirt and brings it up to wipe at his mouth. Dean feels like his brain is short-circuiting.

“It’s great! Beautiful day for it.” Novak grins widely at him. “I was feeling pretty under the weather these past few days, so this is great, you know. Nothing like vitamin D and fresh air.”

In a horrifying moment of clarity, Dean’s eyes are drawn to Novak’s wrists as he lowers his hands to rest on his hips. Novak doesn’t wear a cuff.

Now, Dean’s not necessarily a stickler for every tradition. He doesn’t think it’s a big deal to date someone who isn’t your soulmate, for example. He’s read online about people who’ve _married_ someone else, or people who are born without soulmarks who are still just as happy without their “match.” That’s all well and good and if people are happy, great.

But he’s _never_ heard of anyone without their soulmate not wearing their cuff. Everyone wears them from the time it appears until the day you reveal. That’s how it works, that’s how you find them.

If Novak isn’t wearing one, that means he’s already found his soulmate.

Dean tears his eyes away; he needs to make it through the rest of this conversation before shutting down entirely. He doesn’t want Novak to see him get upset. After all, it’s not Novak’s fault he’s literally perfect and irresistible and, Jesus, why did Dean ever get his hopes up like this?

“Listen, I should get going,” Novak says, glancing at his watch. Dean feels embarrassed to be distracting Novak from his weekend. Dude probably wants to get away from Dean and back home to his soulmate as quickly as possible.

“Sure thing,” he says with as much cheer as he can muster. “I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Looking forward to it.” Novak smiles at him and trots off, and Dean turns and heads back home at once. There’s a fifth of whiskey in the kitchen that’s calling his name.

He feels like such an asshole when he’s lying on his couch, sweatpants on, alcohol open, and his favorite takeout on its way; it’s an asshole thing to do to be _sad_ that his crush is happy. The fact that Novak has found his soulmate and feels complete, feels whole and happy and fulfilled, that’s wonderful. It’s the kind of thing that anyone would wish for their peers to experience. But Dean’s just sitting here feeling sorry for himself.

Tomorrow, he promises with the bottle at his lips, tomorrow he’ll be happy for Novak.

Tonight, he thinks as the doorbell rings, tonight he gets to be miserable and pathetic.

 

Dean crosses the lobby quickly, avoiding his co-workers until he’s a bit more coherent. Currently, he is too hungover to respond to anyone. He beelines to the elevator, already mentally preparing his coffee prior to engaging in any human conversation.

But this time, he can’t blame Sam for his aches and pains. He sure as shit won’t blame Novak, either. He’s come to the very mature conclusion that his life went wrong somewhere around his birth and everything’s been downhill since then. Novak is truly better off without him.

“Winchester!” Dean’s never shied away from Novak’s attention before but he comes close today. He shuts his eyes at the spike of pain in his head and turns slightly, grimacing.

“Hey,” he says.

“Oh.” Novak makes a sympathetic noise. “Got that Monday hangover, huh?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

Novak rubs his arm and Dean experiences the odd sensation of floating outside of his body while his heart drops into his stomach. They always wear long-sleeved button-downs at the office; he never noticed that Novak didn’t wear a cuff because of their work attire. So stupid.

“…I’ll bring you a mug in a few, ‘kay?” Novak steps off the elevator on his floor. “See you in a bit!”

Dean stares wordlessly at the doors as they shut and the elevator carries him up to where his office is located.

Sure enough, he hasn’t been sitting down for ten minutes before someone knocks on his door.

“Hey,” Novak says, leaving the door ajar. “As promised.”

“Thank you,” Dean manages to say, cupping the mug in both hands and inhaling the rich aroma. Anything to keep his eyes off of Novak. Well, sort of. He looks great today, pale green shirt left open at the collar and gray slacks, wild hair and bright eyes, beautiful as always.

“I need to get back downstairs, duty calls and all that.” Novak puts his hand in his pockets and shuffles toward the door. “The sooner we’ve closed the Roman Enterprises account, the better, am I right?”

“Absolutely,” Dean huffs. “Can’t wait to never have to sit through one of his briefings again.”

Novak grins at him and nods, whistling as he walks back to the elevators. Dean tries and fails not to stare at his perfect ass. He’s tempted to do something _really_ stupid like scent the air for Novak’s cologne, just to get a small taste of what he’ll never have.

The following day is no better. They do have yet another briefing on the Roman account and all of the directors are meant to be there. In an attempt to distance himself from the object of his useless affections, Dean waits until the last possible minute, hoping to grab the unwanted seat in the far back corner of the room.

Unfortunately, from the other side of the glass, Dean can see Novak glaring _hard_ at anyone who dares to come near the chair next to his; when Dean enters the room, however, Novak smiles shyly and beckons him over. It’s fucking adorable and Dean is not cut out for this at all. How is he supposed to get over the perfect man? He spends the whole meeting admiring Novak’s beautiful profile and hating himself instead of listening to whatever the hell Dick Roman is up there gloating about.

The rest of the week does not improve. At first, Dean thinks he can summon the willpower to be a professional and just ignore it. He follows his regular routine, including taking his lunch in the employee room on the fourth floor. This room was previously his favorite because it’s next to the accounting offices and that meant he could find Novak here regularly. Even if Dean was too shy to sit down with him, at least he could admire him in a totally not-creepy way. Now, though, knowing that he has less than zero chance and he never did, Dean picks over his food before deciding his appetite is gone. He waves goodbye both to Novak and the room entirely. Thursday, he finds a new place to eat.

By Friday, Dean is feeling emotionally depleted. He’d never realized just how deep his feelings ran and how much it would devastate him to learn it was unrequited. He feels like a silly teenager who got lost in their hormones. Still, he must continue to work and somehow hope to move on.

A quiet knock rouses him from his brooding. Novak is standing at his door with a forcefully cheerful smile and a little cardboard tray carrying two cups of coffee.

“Hello, Dean,” he says. “May I come in?”

“Yeah, ‘course,” Dean replies, standing up to greet him and ignoring the butterflies in his stomach. “What’s up?”

“I, um, I just wanted to say hello. Oh—I brought some coffee as well.”

“Gosh, buddy, you didn’t have to bring me this. What’s the occasion?”

Novak winces. “Um, just—doing something nice for a colleague.” He shrugs and Dean’s heart continues to pulse erratically. “I…I was hoping to ask, um, if you’re—if you’d be interested in having drinks tonight? At the Piper Inn?”

And by God, there is something just so hopeful and beautiful and longing in Novak’s face that Dean doesn’t have the heart to say no.

“I’d love to.”

“Really?” Novak’s expression morphs into surprise and then joy and Dean knows that even though he will regret this that it was the right decision. So he plasters on a smile and thanks Novak again for the coffee and the invite and bids him goodbye. Then, settling down to refocus on his spreadsheets, he takes a sip. Turns out Novak knows just how he likes his coffee, and Dean groans out loud.

How is he ever supposed to get over him?

 

When Dean exits his office suite, Novak is waiting near the elevators, typing on his phone intently. Dean swallows against his emotions and works up a convincing smile.

“Nice of you to come all the way up here,” he says, cuffing Novak’s shoulder. He’s rewarded with a shy smile.

“I wanted to make sure you left promptly. You shouldn’t work such long hours all the time,” Novak replies. Dean appreciates their easy banter on the way to their parking garage. Novak seems a little less stressed than before but he’s still subdued. This is not the eccentric and bouncing off the walls with energy Novak who usually insists on happy hour.

Dean follows Novak’s weird, rusty truck to a bar not far from the office, about halfway home. It seems like a bit of a hole in the wall, and the signage declares that they have the city’s best wings. They settle at the end of a long table, waving at the handful of people they know and tucking into their beers. Novak actually orders a cider and Dean’s pretty sure he’s heard Novak talk about taking shots here before so he’s mildly confused but also grateful that he isn’t being asked to participate. Shots have a way of making him a bit loose-lipped.

The longer they sit and talk, the more relaxed Novak becomes. They swap stories and Dean really loves to listen to his voice, maybe a little too much. He’s grateful that no talk of soulmates comes up and he actively avoids looking at Novak’s arms, even though that deprives him of the pleasure of watching Novak’s hands. Dean insists on buying the third round and he gets the urge to be more daring. Novak’s bragged about his drinking before and he doesn’t want to be a downer.

“I can definitely keep up with you,” he protests, handing Novak a glass of whiskey just like his own. “Don’t change your drinking habits on my account.” He swallows the harsh liquid and gestures at the bartender for more.

Novak seems hesitant but he follows Dean’s lead. They only take two but it’s enough after three beers. They wind up leaning more on each other than the bar, both a little surprised by how much the alcohol is affecting them. Still, they take it in stride, laughing and teasing and having a good time.

Things go from good to great when Novak goes for Dean’s tie, loosening it enough to get his top button undone. It was a joke at first but then the energy between them turns charged and electric. Dean breathes shallowly, feeling Novak’s fingers at his throat when he gulps.

Novak blinks up at him, eyes hooded. He’s biting his lip and how the hell is Dean supposed to resist him?

They both move at the same time, crashing into a passionate kiss that robs Dean of his ability to think. The noise of the bar fades with the rush of blood in his ears. _Novak is kissing him. He’s kissing Novak. They’re kissing and_ —

Novak’s hands return to Dean’s body, coming down from curling into his hair to run along his shoulders and down his back. Then around the side and up his chest, sweeping over his nipples at the same time that he bites Dean’s lip.

Novak brings his nimble fingers back to Dean’s shirt and starts unbuttoning it further. Dean hurries to reciprocate, just as he had been trailing his hands over Novak’s chiseled torso. When he’s got Novak’s collarbone exposed, he dives in to leave a dark hickey at the side of his neck. Moaning, Novak moves his hands to Dean’s crotch and damn near makes him cream his pants like a teenager.

“Hey! Hey!” Slowly, Dean realizes that the bartender is yelling at them. Shit, they are sitting at a bar right now. “I’m happy as a clam for the two of you but save the rest of that stuff for later, please.”

“Sorry,” Dean pants, “sorry, we were just—”

“Leaving.” Novak slaps a handful of bills on the counter and takes Dean’s hand. “We’re leaving now. Sorry for the trouble.”

Dazed, he follows Novak to his truck and goes with it when he gets pushed up against the door. Novak sucks on his tongue and grinds his palm against Dean’s substantial erection. He whines, begging without words for more, but Novak pulls away.

“Get in,” he says in a dark voice that makes Dean shiver all over. “We’re going home where I can ravish you properly.” Dean doesn’t hesitate to obey.

The car ride is silent and it allows the awkward and uncomfortable thoughts in Dean’s mind to surface. This is wrong, isn’t it? Novak’s got someone, _his soulmate,_ and he’s fooling around with a guy like Dean. That’s so messed up, Dean shouldn’t be doing this, he shouldn’t be interfering—

“We’re here,” Novak rumbles and undoes his seatbelt with haste. Shit, that drive was much shorter than Dean had thought it would be, he isn’t ready, he isn’t prepared for what’s about to happen.

“Listen, Novak,” he starts, stumbling out of the passenger side. Before he can get another word out, Novak has him pressed against the door again, all hot and hard against his chest and his hips. Novak’s mouth sucks a hard bruise into Dean’s neck and Dean feels his knees go weak at the sensation. He moans, utterly lost and unable to resist this, no matter what his logical brain is screaming at him.

After a few more minutes of making out, Novak tugs on Dean’s hand and drags him up to the front door. Dean’s too busy getting groped to notice that it wasn’t even locked as they fumble into a clean and spacious living room. He’s about to offer some generic compliment when a voice echoes down the hall.

“Cassie? Is that you? You’re much earlier than I thought. Did everything go okay with Dean? I told you not to be”— _Novak_ walks around the corner and into the room, seeing _other Novak_ who has Dean pinned to the wall by his hips—“nervous? Guess that wasn’t an issue!” Novak laughs and leans against the doorway. “You two kids having fun, I see. How did he take it when you told him?”

Dean, for his part, has forgotten about his erection and the kissing in the face of his total, utter shock. What the hell is happening here?

“There’s…two of you, like, twins,” he says faintly. His head is spinning. The Novak who is pressed against him had frozen when his twin walked into the room and is now absolutely rigid. Still, he manages to reply.

“Yes, like twins.” He takes a step back and Dean looks him in the face, seeing his own shock mirrored there, but also a huge storm of sadness. “Shall we sit down?”

Meanwhile, the second Novak is laughing uproariously. “Didn’t get to the talking with all the making out, Cassie?”

“Stop calling me that,” the first twin mutters. Dean’s brain is still moving too sluggishly to process, he simply follows ‘Cassie’ to the couch and sits. He looks from one twin to the other in astonishment. They are perfectly identical. Right now, they’re wearing different outfits, ‘Cassie’s’ hair is a fucking mess thanks to his own hands, but Dean can see that in matching clothes one would be indistinguishable from the other.

“I’m so confused,” he finally admits. Looking directly at Cassie, he asks, “do you work at Sandover?”

The other man’s face crumples. “No, I don’t. My name is Cas and I am an accountant but it’s Jimmy who is employed by Sandover. I do freelance accounting and I go in for Jimmy when he doesn’t want to work.”

The other twin, Jimmy, moves from the wall to the couch while _Cas_ is talking and he nods. “Some days a guy just needs to sit around in his underwear, you know?”

Dean looks between the brothers, even more amazed by their appearance up close. “That’s pretty fucking impressive.”

A small smile whips across Cas’s mouth. Jimmy laughs some more and claps his brother’s shoulder. “Thanks! We’ve been doing this shit since middle school. High school was the best, though. Cassie here took my yearbook photos for me, I went to a bunch of meetings for him. That was such a good time.”

Dean can’t help but smile imagining this taking place. It’s so obvious now, he thinks, looking at the two of them. Cas is the Novak he’d been seeing on “grumpy” days or any “shy” or “quiet” interactions they had. Jimmy is the one who is boisterous, loud, and silly. Cas is reserved and well-dressed (present moment excluded) and Jimmy is the flamboyant and messy one. In both cases, Dean noticed their awesome personalities and the good looks certainly didn’t hurt. It’s no small wonder he’s had such a crush on the guy.

No, wait. _Fuck,_ it’s actually worse than he thought. He’s gone and fallen for _two brothers._

A quick glance confirms his fear. Both twins have bare wrists. So much for that, then.

He doesn’t have time to wonder about where Cas’s and Jimmy’s soulmates are before Cas speaks up again.

“Dean, I want to apologize for misleading you. I… Well, I would be lying if I said I believed that you knew who we were.”

“Cassie?” Jimmy sounds honestly surprised. “What do you mean?”

Poor Cas is staring hard at his own lap, fingers twisted together. Dean can see his tanned skin is pink with blush, and he has to strain to hear Cas’s quiet reply. “I—I never stood a chance on my own. But at work? When he thought I was you? I thought maybe that was my chance.”

“Oh, Cas.” Jimmy leans his forehead on his twin’s shoulder. “You can’t think like that. We’ve talked about this.”

“It doesn’t matter now anyway,” Cas says firmly, raising his chin. Dean can see the redness in his cheeks and eyes, like he’s holding back tears. “Because Dean knows now, and he should’ve known all along. It was foolish and cruel of me to—to act on my feelings without you being properly informed and having consented. Dean, I’m sorry.”

Dean’s mouth moves because he’s trying to respond but his brain is still going too slowly. Cas has feelings for him but he never did anything about it because he thought he didn’t have a chance? What parallel universe is this? Dean thought his crush was visible from outer space by this point.

“Let us call you a Lyft, Dean,” Jimmy says. His tone is subdued and he’s still leaning into his brother like a support. “It’s the least we can do.”

“I…no.” Dean struggles for a moment. “Don’t, please. I’m—” He looks up at the ceiling like the answers will be up there. “That was a huge surprise for me but it wasn’t…unwelcome.”

“Beg pardon?” Cas says.

“This is really inconvenient,” Dean adds. “I mean, of course you’re both already fucking taken because why wouldn’t you be, but Novak, Cas, I…I just want you to know that I didn’t kiss you back because I thought you were him. I really like you. Both of you. Shit.” He pinches his nose in frustration. “I’m sorry about all of this. I’m sorry I disrespected your soulmate, Cas. You’re both really amazing guys and I didn’t want this to happen. Your soulmates are both very lucky.”

Jimmy chokes and Cas elbows him. “Thank you for saying so, Dean. But I speak for both of us when I say that we aren’t monogamous to our soulmate and so our kissing wasn’t disrespectful toward them.”

“Oh,” Dean replies weakly. “That’s…that’s good.”

Jimmy is now giggling behind his hand and Dean is confused as hell but he’s still too embarrassed and worked up over this whole mess. Then, Cas continues.

“I am very flattered that you…that you like me.” Now it’s Dean’s turn to blush.

“Just thought you should know,” he says decisively, standing up. He’s ready to get the hell out of here. “I’m gonna walk home now.”

“You shouldn’t,” Jimmy says, “because then you won’t be able to find out how much Cas and I like you back.”

“Excuse me?” Dean squeaks.

“Jimmy,” Cas says in a warning tone.

“He should hear it and decide for himself,” Jimmy insists. This doesn’t clarify anything for Dean, but he still doesn’t move. “You’ve told him it’s an open relationship and that isn’t strictly true.”

“Whoa, guys.” Dean winces. “I really don’t want to get in the way here. I have a crush and it’s stupid but I’ll get over it, okay?”

“I wish you wouldn’t,” Jimmy huffs. But still, he looks to Cas. They have a silent conversation, something passing between their faces in the form of tiny shifts in expression. Finally, Cas sighs and looks at Dean. He turns his hand over and runs his fingers over his wrist.

“Jimmy and I were young when we realized our soulmarks matched. At first, we thought it was a twin thing or that they just happened to be very similar and not identical. But when we read about other sets of multiples with different soulmarks, we realized that wasn’t the case here. Not only are we brothers but…”

“We’re more,” Jimmy finishes, putting his hand on top of Cas’s and interlacing their fingers. “And I’m not bothered that you and Cas were making out because I’m only jealous that I wasn’t in the middle of all that.”

“Don’t be crude, Jimmy,” Cas chides him but it’s not angry, only fond.

Regardless, Dean is having trouble focusing on actual words right now. His brain, his heart, everything came to a screeching halt the minute Jimmy reached for Cas’s hand. At that moment, he’d exposed Cas’s bare wrist to the air and to Dean’s eyes. His gaze landed immediately on Cas’s soulmark, identical to the mark that Dean has seen on his own goddamn wrist for _years._

He moves on shaking legs to sit back down. Cas and Jimmy look a bit surprised but they are quiet, watching Dean, not knowing what’s about to happen. What is about to happen? Is it really the same mark, or is Dean imagining things now? What if it is the same, but Cas and Jimmy don’t care? Clearly, they’re very happy together. Why bother themselves with Dean? So he stares at the delicate blue-green feather etched on Cas’s pale skin and tries to breathe.

Finally, the words come. Maybe they aren’t the best words, but they get the point across.

“That’s mine. That’s mine, too.”

Jimmy seems to catch on more quickly than Cas does, squeezing his brother’s hand and gaping at Dean. “Holy shit.”

Dean fumbles for the buttons on his shirt sleeves and tugs impatiently. Still speechless, he undoes his leather cuff and, for the first time in over a decade, he lets someone else look at his soulmark.

The feather sits straight across his wrist, bisecting his veins and the scar from when he’d broken his arm in college and it had to be surgically fixed. He’d been fucking terrified the whole time that it would damage or alter his mark, but it didn’t. Some freaky soulmate biology made sure the mark healed itself perfectly. The tones of blue that fade to green on the opposite end are as vibrant as the day he woke up and saw it on his arm, his little promise from the universe that he wasn’t alone. The way the dark blue clung to the very tips of his feather always fascinated Dean, while the beautiful turquoise that made up the center made him feel calm.

Dean starts when warm fingers brush against his arm. Cas and Jimmy are leaning into him, so close now, touching him carefully. They look up at him with awestruck blue eyes and Dean is lost all over again.

“We wondered for years about the colors,” Cas says softly. “It seemed so distinct. Such a verdant shade. There had to be an explanation but eventually, we let it go. Thought we were reading into it too much.”

“It’s you, Dean,” Jimmy continues. “We needed you.”

“Me,” Dean echoes them and is shocked to his core. “Nobody’s ever _needed_ me before.”

“We don’t want to give you up, now that we’ve all just found each other,” Cas tells him. He grips Jimmy’s hand once more. “I know this is a lot. You’ve just found out and you hardly know us. Hell, you thought there was only one of us.”

“No,” Dean interrupts, “it’s—” He thinks back over the past few months at work, his interactions with ‘Novak’ and what he’s seen tonight. “It was a surprise but now that I know, it’s pretty clear. It’s obvious now who is in all of my memories.” He looks between them. “And I’ve never been more sure that I’m crazy about _both_ of you.”

“We’re so relieved.” Jimmy smiles at him. “That would obviously be our preference. We’ve never had a third for longer than one night, but…” He trails off, his eyes glinting dangerously.

Dean swallows. “A third?”

Now Cas is the one looking predatory. “Jimmy and I are very skilled at working together to pleasure someone. Would you care to find out a bit more about that?”

His affirmative response was probably something like _‘ngh’_ rather than any actual words but, clearly, it was enough for Cas and Jimmy, who promptly dragged him to their bedroom. Long into the night, Dean was reminded every time he saw his own wrist, or Cas’s, or Jimmy’s, that this was _real._ It seemed like a romantic comedy, like it was too good to be true.

But in reality, Jimmy was fond of him reminding him, it was more like a fairy-tale. One where the ending made for a perfect beginning. Neither Dean or Cas ever disagreed with him on that.

**Author's Note:**

> Here be the alternate, smutty ending:
> 
> His affirmative response was probably something like _‘ngh’_ rather than any actual words but, clearly, it was enough for Cas and Jimmy, who promptly dragged him to their bedroom. The constant asking for consent, the passionate kissing and touching, and the beautiful noises and shapes they made together lasted for hours. Long into the night, Dean was reminded every time he saw his own wrist, or Cas’s, or Jimmy’s, that this was _real._ It seemed like a romantic comedy, like it was too good to be true. And then Jimmy sunk down on his cock while Cas pounded into his ass, and Dean decided the questions could wait until morning. 
> 
> Thanks again to Beth and to you readers!! 
> 
> [on tumblr](http://profound-boning.tumblr.com/post/177425764359/)


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